A Taste of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novella - Lara Adrian [17]
It hadn’t been his intention to have Danika naked beneath him tonight. Far from it, in fact. Yet he couldn’t muster the good sense to regret what had happened here.
Carnal, fevered, incredible sex.
And his greedy body only wanted more.
He stared down at her, laid out before him like an offering on the kitchen table.
Christ, she was beautiful. Milky skin and long, lean limbs. Supple curves in all the right places. He stroked his hands over her perfection. Brushed his fingers across her breasts and down her abdomen, where a small red birthmark in the shape of a teardrop and crescent moon stamped her as a Breedmate—a female meant for his kind, capable of bearing Breed young and bonding to one of his race eternally through blood. Only death could sever it.
The sight of that diminutive mark on Danika MacConn sent a jolt of possessiveness through him—unbidden, but hard to ignore. His fangs were still filling his mouth from the passion he’d shared with her. Now a darker need put a throb in his gums, made his amber-hot eyes burn brighter in his skull … made his pulse quicken with the urge to feed. To take her delicate throat in his mouth and pierce the pretty vein that ticked there.
To drink from her and bind this female to him at last.
That urge boiled past his lips on a low growl.
Danika’s dusky blue gaze lifted to him, and he could only hope her ability hadn’t betrayed his thoughts to her. “Come, lass,” he rasped, disengaging from her heat to take her into his arms.
He lifted her up and carried her away from the table, striding naked with her, out of the kitchen and up the castle stairwell to the master bedroom on the second floor. His bedroom. The one he hadn’t set foot in for months.
Not since he’d buried the ruined pieces of his old life and his quest to destroy Reiver began.
He brought Danika into the room and set her down on the king-size four-poster bed. The thing was a relic, only a couple hundred years younger than he was. Its headboard, canopy, and carved supports were made of tooled black walnut, its thick down mattress cloaked in creamy sheepskin coverlets and wool blankets woven in MacBain red and black. Danika looked sexy as hell in the middle of it, propped up on her elbows, one slender leg bent at the knee.
Malcolm wanted her all over again.
Still.
Her heavy-lidded gaze raked his naked body and she gave him a knowing smile, all the invitation he requir Kionn he red.
He prowled onto the bed and covered her, sank back into her welcoming warmth. He made love to her slowly this time, properly, the way a woman like her deserved to be pleasured. When they were both slicked in clean sweat and sated again, he stretched out alongside her and gathered her close. He stroked her pretty breasts, caressed her delicate throat and jawline. Tried to will his eager, all-too-obvious erection to heel. An exercise in futility when Danika reached down to touch him, wrapping her fingers around the shaft and tenderly petting its length.
He groaned, savoring the feel of her hands on him. His curse was raw in his throat, as dark as the guilt that was suddenly rising up on him. He’d been able to push it aside so long as his senses were consumed with need, but now it gnawed at him.
Danika’s touch went still. She was looking at him in concern now, forehead creased. “What is it, Mal? Am I doing something wrong?”
“No.” He cursed again and brought her hand up to his mouth to place a kiss in her palm. “Nothing you’ve done is wrong. As for me … Christ.” He met her searching gaze, hated that he was making her think she was at fault somehow. He couldn’t keep his hands from seeking her out. His fingers craved the feel of her the same way his cock longed to be back inside her. “I feel like I’m betraying Conlan when I touch you. I’m betraying him